


Safe. Warm. Content.

by Lillian_nator



Series: mmmmmm baby birds [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, Sick Character, Sick Fic, Teen!Technoblade, Wilbur is in Uni, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Winged Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Winged TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Winged Wilbur Soot, Wingfic, young!tommyinnit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29547231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillian_nator/pseuds/Lillian_nator
Summary: Tommy gets hit with some sort of flu, and even after raising two hatchlings, Phil still worries greatly about his youngest.
Relationships: TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: mmmmmm baby birds [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170785
Comments: 44
Kudos: 746





	Safe. Warm. Content.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I am trying out something VERY different, and it's also VERY late. Long story short, I got food poisoning. Life sucks, we move on and read fluffy sick fics.

When Tommy awoke that morning, the way he felt could only be described as feverish. 

Covered in a cold sweat; pale fluffy hair knotted down, stuck to his forehead; small, down-covered, stark white wings curled against his back; shivering, yet burning; all as a nauseous feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. His head throbbed, pounding into the back of his brain like a small drummer would strike a snare drum. Tommy let out a small whine, curling deeper into the nest, his heart aching for his Father. He could feel as his consciousness sunk further into his hindbrain at the discomfort he was experiencing, instinctively burying himself into the familiar blankets, letting out soft happy chirps as his hindbrain tried to soothe itself from the sickness he was currently enduring. 

The door to the nursery opened with a soft creek; “Hey Baby Bird,” Phil faintly cooed, moving to wake up his youngest son the way he did every morning. 

Tommy turned over, bringing his favorite blanket over his head, blocking out the golden sunlight that the door to the hallway had let in. Admitting out a weak moan, he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Darlin’, you gotta wake up - I know you’re awfully comfortable, but it’s mornin’ time, and I made breakfast -'' Phil stopped mid thought, noticing the shudders of his hatchling. “ _ Oh Tommy _ , you doing okay?”

Tommy found a large, calloused hand brushing his matted fringe out off of his forehead, softly tisking at the heat Tommy was radiating. 

The small blonde leaned into his father’s touch, letting out another needy chirp. He looked up, eyes slightly watery, “Feel icky, Papa.”

“Oh I know, Baby Bird.” Phil muttered comfortingly, cradling Tommy’s cheek with the palm of his right hand. “I think you’re running a fever.” 

Tommy watched with half lidded eyes as Phil’s wings fluffed up like a Momma Bird protecting her young, instinct taking over as his father watched his youngest son suffer, hindbrain telling him to lessen his hatchling’s pain immediately. 

“You hungry, Toms?” Phil gently asked, moving the blankets within the nest around. 

Tommy shook his head tiredly, just wanting the feeling to go away, as Phil started to gently lift Tommy from the nest into his arms. Tommy rested his head upon his father’s shoulder, eyes closing in comfort, his legs wrapping around Phil’s waist, as Phil held up the small boy on his hip. 

The elder, now thoroughly worried at the state of his hatchling, puffed his wings up, the extra appendages instinctively moving to protect his youngest, hindbrain working miles a minute as his younger hicked and coughed. He rubbed Tommy’s back soothingly, shushing the boy lightly when his breathing sped up, kissing the top of the 4-year-old’s head paternally, whispering soft reassurances as he moved the two down to the kitchen. 

“Papa,” The blonde whined yet again, Phil simply bounced the younger on his hip as he headed down the stairs, combing his hand through the boy’s hair, trying to untangle the thick knots from sleep. “M’ head hurts.”

The Raven hummed to alleviate the boy, “I know Baby Bird, I’m gonna take your temperature okay? And then we can give you some medicine to make your head feel better, alright?” Tommy slowly nodded along to his father’s words, breathing heavily, his cough apparent. 

Setting Tommy gently on the counter, the small boy curled around himself, legs pulling up into his chest, head resting upon his knees. Phil came back with the glass thermometer moments later, rinsing it off in the sink before sticking it under the hatchling’s tongue. Tommy let out a pitiful whine, resting his head on Phil’s chest, burying his pale blonde hair into his father’s sweater. “I know Darlin’, I know. Give it a minute, Bubs.” Tommy released another high pitched chirp, leaning into Phil’s touch. 

It almost physically hurt Phil to see his hatchling in so much discomfort, his hindbrain screaming danger at his son’s needy chirps, quickly looking around the room for his other son, logically knowing that his 13-year-old wouldn’t be up for a few more hours, but an itch persisted in the back of his mind to see his other son, to check up on him, to make sure he wasn’t suffering the same way his youngest was. 

Before Phil could continue his thoughts, the timer went off letting the blonde know that the thermometer was ready. 

“Alright, Baby Bird.” Phil cooed, “Let's check your temperature.”

Phil pulled the thermometer out of the younger’s mouth carefully, wings fluttering as Tommy nestled into his shoulder once the glass object was taken out of his mouth. 

_ 38.5 _

Oh. Tommy had a fever, for sure. A high one too. 

“Is it bad, Papa?” Tommy asked innocently, looking at Phil’s face, head tilted, wings drooped onto the counter. 

“You’re definitely sick, Baby Bird.” Phil gently lifted Tommy up from off the counter, making sure the kitchen utilities were off, throwing the thermometer in the sink, and grabbing a plate of eggs for Techno, before heading back up to the nursery with the boy. “But, it’s nothing that a little medicine and sleep won’t fix. So you gotta be a good boy, and sleep today, okay?”The slow, tired nod, against the elder’s shoulder, was enough confirmation for Phil to know Tommy would listen, one of his wings wrapping around the small boy protectively. 

  
  
  
  


Setting the hatchling down in the nest, with a promise to get medicine, he headed to give his middle son his breakfast. 

“Tech!” Phil called, moving over to his teen’s bedroom. 

“Whaddya want, Dad?” Techno called out from his room, probably still in his bed. 

The older softly raps his knuckles onto the wooden door, “I have a plate for you, come and get it.”

Techno opened the door, eyes red from just awaking, hair tousled, and blankets thrown about the floor, that were clearly a part of his nest, while he was sleeping. The younger scowled as Phil ruffled his hair, handing the teen his plate of eggs. 

Although the teen’s face was confused and annoyed, the light fluttering of his feathers showed Techno’s pleasure at the small act from his father. Taking a bite from his plate, half-way through chewing his first bite of eggs, he asked; “Why didn’t you jus’ wait for me to wake up?”

“Tom’s sick.”

“Oh.” Techno continued chewing, but slower, more contemplative. “How sick?”

“Pretty bad fever, I’d appreciate you comin’ into the nest and helping him rest - if you have the time.” Phil gave the look that showed Techno he didn’t  _ really  _ have a choice in the matter. 

Techno’s gray wings ruffled protectively at the thought of his baby brother ill, still chewing, he mumbled; “Alright, I’ll try.”

  
  
  
  


When Phil returned to the nursery with a bottle of Children’s Tylenol, and DayQuill in his right hand, opening the wooden door slowly, eyes moving for the middle of the nest, where he had left the boy. 

However, Tommy wasn’t there. 

Phil opened his mouth to call for the boy, hindbrain in a bit of a frenzy, however, the small sniffles and coughs to his left made him close his mouth immediately. Looking towards the left edge of the nest, the blonde saw his youngest shaking, tears running down the younger's face in such a guilty manner. 

Following Tommy’s line of sight, he saw the pile of vomit that caused the younger remorse. “ _ Oh, Bubs _ .” 

“I’m sorry Papa,” Hiccup, “I didn’t mean to - I didn’t wanna. I’m so sorry, Papa.” 

Phil immediately rushed over to the small blonde, wings wrapping around his hatchling, nuzzling his nose into Tommy’s hair. Cooing the blue-eyed boy, shushing him quietly, trying to calm his boy. “Hey it's alright Hatchling. It's okay. I know, I know.” Rubbing Tommy's back, softly, kissing the top of his head, “Do you feel better sweetheart?”

Tommy slowly nodded sniffling and crying, still guilty about messing up the nest, Phil cradled the boy's head in his hands, “Then it's perfectly fine. I'm glad you feel better, Darling.”

“The nest, Papa.” Tommy’s down-covered wings curled in on themselves, shameful. “Messed it up.”

“Oh it’s alright, Bubs. I’ll fix it.” Phil bit playfully at the younger's nose, making the blonde giggle joyfully. “We gotta get you cleaned up now, you feelin’ up to it?” 

“Okay Papa.”

Picking Tommy up again, he headed towards the “Alright, Baby Bird.”

  
  
  
  


By the time that Tommy was back in the nest, taking a brief nap, Phil was pacing. He wasn’t sure if he should bring Tommy to the hospital, even after two other kids going through the hatchling phase, Phil still felt his hindbrain go wild when anything happened to his youngest son. 

Not to mention that he felt  _ so  _ on edge from the fact that his nest was different. It wasn’t made the way that he likes it, and there was an itch in the back of his mind that told Phil that his hatchlings were unsafe, midnight black feathers fluffing up randomly as he walked back and forth.

“Pops?”

Techno stood at the doorway, hair combed back and fluffed up into the small mohawk that most nestlings wear, faded red meshed in at the tips of the brunette mess. Oversized hoodie, probably Wilbur’s, and joggers, showing that Techno was ready to spend the day in bed. 

Phil shook his wings out, watching a few ebony feathers fell to the floor gracefully; “What’s up Tech?”

Techno looked down at his hands, which were engulfed in the hoodie sleeves; “Is Tommy, okay?”

“Oh, Techa.” Phil opened his arms, allowing Techno to walk into the nursery, leaning down to rest his head on Phil’s shoulder. “He’s fine, he’s got a pretty bad fever though. Threw up in the nest.”

Techno grumbled, “That’s disgusting.” 

Phil emitted a soft chuckle, “Yeah, it is.”

“I hate it.” Techno had moved his head to look at the way the nest was configured, moved around after a third of the blankets had to be thrown in the wash. 

“You’ll live.” Phil chided, “Your brother already cried about it. Don’t bring it up.”

“Yes, Pops.” The brunette sing-songed. 

Phil turned Techno around, holding him by the shoulders, tugging the hood off of his nestling’s head; “Go finish your homework, alright? I’ll make you dinner in an hour.” 

Techno threw his hood back on, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Sounds good, M’ starving.”

“Don’t act like I don’t feed you, you just fuckin’ grow like a bean stalk.”

“You’re just mad because me and Wilbur are taller than you.” 

Phil pushed him out of the nursery with a laugh, “Go do your homework.”

  
  
  
  


It was hours later when Tommy stirred, confused and slightly delirious from his fever, "Papa?"

"Good Afternoon, Baby Bird." Phil smiled, nuzzling into Tommy's hair, kissing the top of the blonde's head. "How are you feelin'?"

Tommy lets out a low, needy chirp; "Wan' Wilby." 

_ Oh.  _

"I know Toms, I know." Laying down in the middle of the nest, he brought Tommy to rest atop his chest, letting the boy bury his head into the nook between his shoulder and neck. "But Wilby is at Uni right now." 

"M' miss Wilby. Wan him." Tommy wrapped his arms around Phil's neck, and the Raven instinctively wrapped his wings around the boy.

Phil's heart broke, of course Tommy would want his oldest brother at a time where he feels broken down and vulnerable. He feels his safest when he has his entire flock with him.

“How about this Bubs,” Phil started, shifting to bring Tommy off of his chest, “I’ll go get my phone from downstairs, and I’ll call Wilbur. That way you can speak to him?”

Much like the stubborn hatchling that all of Phil’s kids were, Tommy persisted with his point, “Wan’ him.”

“ _ Oh Baby Bird _ . I’m so sorry, he can’t come right now.” Phil tried to get his point across to a delirious 4-year-old. 

Tommy just huffed in defeat, burying himself further into the nest as Phil got up to make his way down the stairs and into the kitchen, to grab his phone. 

  
  
  
  


The phone rang 4 times before Wilbur picked up, having been texted by Phil beforehand, to know what to expect. 

The image of Wilbur popping in earphones, took up the screen, he seemed to be walking away from the dining hall, briefly waving at someone off screen, probably a classmate. 

“Wilby!” Tommy slurred, still tired and out of it. 

“Hey, Baby Bird.” Wilbur smiled, sipping his coffee. “Papa told me that you’re sick.”

Tommy nodded, a giant grin forming on his face at the sight of his older brother. “Miss You, Wilby.” 

Wilbur visibly melted, “Awe Toms, I miss you too, Baby Bird. I promise I will come home next weekend, okay?”

Tommy sleepily nodded. 

Wilbur smirked, “You gotta get your rest, okay? You gotta get big and strong for when I come and visit. We’ll go to the park and shit.” 

“Wilbur!” Phil chidded loudly, smiling when Tommy leaned into him. 

“I said nothing.” The brunette cheekily laughed, “I hope you feel better Toms. I can see that you are fallin’ asleep, Baby Bird. I’ll let you go.” 

“Bye Bye, Wilby.” 

Wilbur’s wings tousled, excited to see his baby brother this weekend; “Have a goodnight, Toms.”

Phil took the phone from Tommy, watching Tommy visibly relax after hearing from his oldest brother, eyes drooping, snuggling deeper into the nest, getting comfortable. 

“Have a good evening, Pops.” Wilbur smiled up at the camera, “I have an evening class in a few minutes.”

“Well, I don’t want to keep you. I look forward to seeing you this weekend!” 

Wilbur ruffled his own hair, “I’ll be there” and then hung up, seeming to rush off to his class. 

  
  
  
  


Tommy looked up towards Phil, "M' tired Papa." 

"Then let's go to sleep, okay, Baby Bird?" Phil brought the boy atop his chest again, burrowing into the middle of the nest, scratching Tommy’s scalp softly, letting out comforting little chirps. 

The younger hummed softly, closing his eyes. 

  
  
  
  


Phil faintly opened his eyes minutes later, to the sound of creaking wooden floor boards at the entrance of the nursery, left wing fluffing up to ward off any foes trying to come near the nest. 

"Techno?" His middle son stood at the doorway, rocking back and forth on his feet, cracking his knuckles anxiously. 

The boy in question sent a little wave his way, wings spreading slightly in a questioning manner. 

"C'mere Nestling." Techno scurried down to the nest, finding his spot instinctively, resting on Phil's left side, the Raven's wing protecting him from intruders. 

  
  
  
  


So Phil laid, Tommy's head resting on his chest, laying on Phil's right side, Techno curled around his left. Phil let out a deep satisfied trill, allowing his wings to wrap around both of his youngest. Scratching Techno's scalp lightly, and nuzzling Tommy's hair, breathing out a deep sigh. **Safe, Warm, Content.**

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I HOPE YOU ENJOYED, IF YOU DID, LEAVE A COMMENT DOWN BELOW (or not i cant really tell you what to do, idk) AND I WILL SEE YOU SOON
> 
> :)


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